


Allowed

by Transom



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Aegosexuality, Aromanticism, Asexuality, I know it's stereotypical to headcanon the shy/quiet one as asexual or aromantic, Insecurity, Internalized Acephobia, M/M, No Sex, Queerplatonic Relationships, Self-Doubt, Sex Aversion, Touch Aversion, ace character that feels broken/messed up/like they're not enough, but you can pry aro/ace John from my cold dead hands, don't mind me just throwing all my shit onto John here, kissing aversion, no kissing, they don't do anything "more" than hold hands, those terms aren't used though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27257296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Transom/pseuds/Transom
Summary: Aroace!John finds acceptance - with a little help from Brian - and learns that he is enough.
Relationships: John Deacon/Brian May
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	Allowed

**Author's Note:**

> Skip to the end notes if you'd like more info about warnings and tags.

John doesn’t know how anyone actually does... well, _it_. Almost _any_ of it. 

He’s seen it in films, obviously. He’s seen it on telly, read about it in books, even seen it happen in front of his own eyes; it's difficult to be in a band with Freddie Mercury and Roger Taylor and not have to hear about or even have to see a bit of action every now and then. 

And it’s not even like he hates seeing it, or thinking about it. As long as he doesn’t try to think about himself doing it, he actually quite enjoys thinking about it. It even turns him on; after all, he’s still a fairly commonly functioning human animal, at least physically. He wouldn’t say he has a particularly high or low drive, but it’s _there_ , so at least he can say that part's “normal”. 

But what isn’t normal is what's inside his head. When he tries to fantasize, the furthest he can get with anyone is sitting next to them on a park bench or in a car, perhaps touching shoulders. Maybe a bit of hand-holding, if he’s feeling up for it and is very comfortable with the fantasy-partner. But then, they’ll lean in for a kiss, and John will squeeze his eyes closed, try to go through with it, try to force his fantasy-self to want it. 

He can’t. He hasn’t ever been able to. Even when he’s known the person in his head for months, he can’t just sit there and let them kiss him. He recoils, stutters an apology, tries not to look at the way his partner’s face falls. Then the fantasy goes up in a puff of smoke, and he’s left sick to his stomach, sometimes on the verge of tears, wondering how anyone would ever put up with someone so prudish, so childish, so _abnormal_. 

And it’s not like he’s got much to lure someone in, either. Without being able to kiss, or being able to do more to please his partner, he’s got sod all to offer. If he was beautiful, like Roger, or charismatic, like Freddy, it would be different. Someone might stick around then, even if all they ever got was a peck on the cheek. 

It’s the most difficult when he has a crush on someone. When he meets someone good-looking and friendly, and they aren’t immediately put off by his lack of obvious attractive qualities. Then, it really hurts, because he knows he doesn’t even deserve to look at them, to fantasize about what it might be like for them to like him, to want to get to know him better. 

It really hurts when it’s someone like Brian May. 

Brian isn’t head-turningly pretty like Roger, isn’t outwardly magnetic like Freddy. But he is quietly gorgeous, not to mention brilliant, steady and strong and solid. He’s a comforting presence, especially to John, especially when he grows tired of the others’ more scattershot energy. 

Most importantly to John, Brian isn’t in a hurry. He knows this because it takes Brian months of John catching him looking before he asks him to go somewhere, only him. And then, it’s easy, so easy, just the two of them going to coffee shops, chatting through films so much they get shushed, walking side by side in the park. 

It’s so easy that John isn’t even sure if Brian knows what’s going on. It makes John anxious, wondering if maybe he’s read it wrong, if maybe this is just a close friendship and he’s completely imagined everything. 

But then, Brian walks him home one night after a late pint. It’s chilly, and their hands are in their pockets as they turn to face each other, preparing to say goodbye. John can’t help but blush and duck his head, as Brian shifts from foot to foot. John’s insides squeeze, and his feet start to itching, ready to flee as he anticipates what’s coming. 

He’s seen the films. He knows Brian’s asking if he can kiss him goodnight, even if he can barely hear him through the blood rushing in his ears. Embarrassingly, he opens his mouth and nothing comes out; he can only feel his face heating as he stares a hole into the pavement. 

Brian quickly says that it’s okay, assures him he doesn’t have to say yes if he doesn’t want to. John mumbles an apology, and Brian reaches for his arm, squeezing it only just. John looks up and Brian is smiling. 

John hates it. He wonders if Brian is thinking he’s just not ready for that yet, even after so many dates. He’s sure that Brian is reaching the end of his patience, but he seems like he’s also willing to give John more time, because that’s the sort of person he is. John feels guilty and nauseated with shame, and he hates it. 

Because Brian wishes him goodnight like it’s just another parting. Because Brian rings him the next morning, asks him if he’s free to go to a museum. Because Brian bumps shoulders with him as they look at exhibits of cavemen and arrowheads, and asks him questions and listens when he rambles. 

Because Brian doesn’t ask to kiss him again until a few dates later. They’re sitting on a park bench, just like in John’s most daring fantasies. John likes sitting close, likes that his left foot is pressed against Brian’s right. Brian offers a hand, and, a little shakily, John gives him his, letting out a deep breath when it’s not so bad, doesn’t make him want to run for the hills. He’d still rather not be doing it, has never particularly liked much in the way of touch, but it’s what Brian likes, clearly. What Brian wants from him. 

So he wonders why, when Brian asks permission to kiss him again, why he can’t give him that. Why are there some things he can put up with, and some things that make him want to crawl out of his skin? Why can’t he even give Brian the courtesy of a timetable, let him know that he’ll be ready someday? Because Brian’s gorgeous and he deserves so much more from a partner, especially one who’s already punching well above his weight. 

Brian asks him what’s wrong when he can’t look at him. John croaks out something about not being ready, not being sure if he’ll _ever_ be ready. Brian looks concerned, and that hurts John like a knee to the gut, so John quickly explains that there’s simply something wrong with _him_ , that it’s not Brian’s fault whatsoever. He stammers out that he really likes Brian, but he doesn’t like him like he should, not properly. He explains that he’s never liked _anyone_ like that, never wanted to kiss anyone or do anything more. He feels so selfish for wanting a partner at all, wanting someone who will stick with him even when he has nothing to offer. 

Brian turns to him, moving his hand up to wrap around John’s wrist. It’s a touch John actually quite enjoys, much better than the hand-holding. The niceness is distracting, relaxing, and John manages to look up at Brian, even though he knows it’s all about to come to a painfully kind end. 

But Brian says something different. Something John struggles to believe, that he only wants to be with him. He says he only wants what John wants to give, is happy with the way things are now. He tells John how much he enjoys going places with him, how he loves his dry sense of humor, how John makes it so easy for him to love him. He actually says the word _love_ , and John’s heart skips a beat, and he claps his hand over his mouth, overcome. 

John doesn’t know if he loves Brian the way he should, if he’s even allowed to love someone the way he does. He doesn’t know what to do with Brian’s acceptance of that. He tells Brian he’s too good to him, but Brian only snorts. His thumb moves slowly over John’s wrist, and John rests his forehead on his shoulder, breathes him in and feels like crying and laughing in relief all at once. 

It’s nothing like the films. It’s nothing like the books, the programs, like the other couples he sees sitting in the park. But it’s exactly what he thought he was a fool for wanting, and that feels so weird and good it’s like flying. 

Now he knows he doesn’t have to know how anyone else does it. He knows himself, and that’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Warning, John thinks some not-very-nice things about himself in this fic. Just for clarification, he is aromantic, as well as aegosexual, an identity that falls under the asexual umbrella. He experiences queerplatonic attraction to people regardless of gender, but is sex-averse and kissing-averse (only when it comes to his own involvement, though - that's where the aego- part comes in). He is unaware that any of these terms exist and so does not know that his own way of loving is normal or valid, and therefore experiences internalized acephobia. He also experiences some touch-aversion and feels broken and like he's messed up.
> 
> Also, a disclaimer: All forms and experiences of asexuality/aromanticism are valid. This is only one version, and if you find some of it relatable, wonderful! But even if you don’t, please know that you are still just as ace/aro as anyone else on either spectrum.


End file.
